


First Date

by TriscuitsandSoup



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allergies, Established Peter Hale/Chris Argent, First Dates, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 02:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8384455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriscuitsandSoup/pseuds/TriscuitsandSoup
Summary: “Where were you?” Peter asked as he felt the weight of the bed shift. He squinted his eyes open just in time to catch his husband crawling underneath the covers.
   “Talking to your boyfriend,” Chris said in a gruff way. His head hit the pillow with an exhausted 'thump.'





	

“Where were you?” Peter asked as he felt the weight of the bed shift. He squinted his eyes open just in time to catch his husband crawling underneath the covers.

“Talking to your boyfriend,” Chris said in a gruff way. His head hit the pillow with an exhausted 'thump.'

“Stiles?” Peter tensed. “Why were you talking to Stiles?”

“He called to -” Chris yawned, “-to let you know that there _is_ a specific subspecies of shark that gets less than nine inches long. It's called a dwarf laternshark, and one day he will have one as a pet. He sounded very determined. He was talking about permits and things. I'd let him have it, if I were you. Doesn't seem worth the battle.”

Peter rolled his eyes as Chris cuddled up next to him. The blanket was pulled from his body as Chris hogged a large bundle of it for himself.

Peter knew better than to try and take it back.

“Stiles doesn't have the attention span to take care of a saltwater fish tank. He will never get a pet shark.”

“You know they have those little freshwater sharks at the pet store?”

“Please, don't encourage him. Besides, he says those aren't real sharks, they're just catfish."

“Whatever,” Chris grumbled.

“I didn't hear the phone go off.”

Chris yawned again. “A tornado siren couldn't wake you up if it went off three feet from your head. You're impossible to wake once you're asleep.”

Peter chuckled. “Maybe not, but I woke up when I noticed you were missing from our bed.” He leaned over and planted a kiss firmly on Chris' mouth.

Chris smirked and kissed him back.

“Will I ever meet him?” he asked when they pulled away.

Peter hesitated. “Would you want to?”

Chris had never shown anything more than a passing interest in the people he brought home. Sometimes, if they lingered a little more than usual he'd say hi or invite them for dinner, but it was nothing more than his deeply ingrained desire to be a good host.

“Of course. You two have been getting a lot more serious lately.”

“How do you figure that?” Peter raised a brow.

“Peter, he called you at three in the morning just to _talk_. None of your other 'escapades' have ever done that. If Stiles is going to stick around for the long haul I feel I should get to know him a little better.”

Peter thought about Chris and Stiles interacting with each other, more than just a quick wave through the doorway, or a small smile as Stiles ducked out of their home on his way to school.

It would, at the very least, absolve the awkwardness of Stiles always feeling he should leave before the husband showed up, even if he knew said husband was completely aware and okay with their relationship.

Chris was right, things between him and Stiles were getting much more serious, and perhaps, if they were introduced Chris would come to care for Stiles just as much as he did.

“Would you get . . . ?” he struggled to come up with a less offensive word.

“Jealous? No,” Chris chuckled. “We've been married for six years. I'm not going to get jealous of your new boyfriend. You're way overestimating how much I care about you. In fact, I should see if Stiles wants to keep you permanently.”

Peter smirked. “Jerk,” he said.

“Asshole.” Chris' thin lips twitched into a smile.

“I'll talk to Stiles,” he said. “Maybe we can take him out sometime this week.”

*

“Your husband wants to meet me?” Stiles bit his lip. It was one of his cuter compulsive habits.

“He does. We've been seeing each other for a while now and he wants to get to know you,” he took Stiles hands gently in his own and thumbed over his knuckles. “It'll be nice. We'll take you to see a movie, and we can get food afterward if you're up for it.” If the movie wasn't appealing enough, he knew Stiles had a very hard time saying no to a free meal.

“That sounds lovely,” Stiles said, squeezing his hands, “but I'm a little concerned your husband just wants to eliminate the competition. I've seen his gun collection, Peter, and that's a little too intense for the average game hunter, don't you think? Any boyfriends of yours ever disappear under mysterious circumstances?” His eyes sparkled, somewhere between a joke and genuine concern.

Peter chuckled. “I promise my husband isn't going to try and murder you, and if he were he wouldn't use a _gun_. He's way too smart for that.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, but he started to smile. “Make sure he knows my dad's the sheriff.”

“You're paranoid, sweetheart.” Peter leaned over and kissed him lightly against his forehead. “He just wants to meet the person I've been spending all of my time with. No murder involved.”

“Alright, I'll go.” Stiles sidled a little closer on the sofa and rested against him. “I guess I am a little interested in meeting the man who could tolerate you enough to stay married to you for six years. He must be a saint.”

Peter growled at him playfully. “Both of you are monsters.”

“Can I wear-”

“No,” Peter cut him off before he even had a chance to ask. “No Batman shirts.”

“What about-”

“No Marvel either. Just wear normal clothes, Stiles. Normal, first date clothes.”

Stiles tensed suddenly. His fingers clasping Peter's tightened. He bit his lip and looked away.

“What's the matter?”

“I just . . . this really is like a first date, huh?” He went back to chewing on his lip. “Like a real first date. I haven't been on a first date, since, well, since I met you. What if he hates me?”

“He won't hate you,” said Peter. He wrapped his arm tight around Stiles waist and pulled him in. “He'll adore you, just as I do.”

“Wait, no, but what if he does? What if he hates me, and he wants you to break up with me?”

Peter could practically hear the wheels in Stiles' head turning as his mind went into overdrive. His body was like a tightly coiled spring, just waiting to burst with his next over-enthused panic. It was a good thing they were alone in Stiles' apartment where strangers couldn't stop and stare as he had his little fit.

“That isn't going to happen,” Peter said, wrapping his other arm around Stiles as well. He held him tight to his chest to prevent him from wiggling away.

Stiles huffed and looked up at him.

“Chris has disliked my partners in the past, but he never asked me to break up with them. On the off chance you two don't get along nothing will change. You and I will continue seeing each other, Chris will keep his nose out of our business, and you and him hardly have to talk.”

“Okay, okay, I'm calm.” Stiles took a deep breath, but his wild eyes betrayed his true emotions.

“Everything will be fine, Stiles. I'm confident you two will get along great.”

“If you're sure.”

*

Two days later Stiles was still uncertain about the meeting, but Peter had him calmed down enough to at least agree to let them drive him to the theater instead of taking his old, rusted out Jeep.

“These apartments don't look safe,” Chris said as they rolled up to the building in his sleek, black SUV.

“They're for the college kids, of course the school would rather spend their tuition money on cool pamphlets and better sports jerseys than giving the students decent living conditions,” Peter said with a shrug. “Stiles doesn't seem to mind, although he says the water runs brown sometimes.”

“He should find somewhere else to live,” said Chris. “I'm sure the commute is nice but-”

“There he is,” said Peter. He motioned towards Stiles who skipped down the steps of his building two at a time.

He was relieved to see his outfit consisted of a black button-up and jeans, instead of his usual flannel and reference shirts. He knew Chris wasn't the sort to judge someone based off their clothing, but he still wanted them both to make a good impression on each other – thus why he'd insisted Chris leave the gun at home.

Stiles clambered into the backseat of the van. He gave Chris a small smile and a sheepish wave as he closed the door.

Chris looked at him strangely for a few seconds before he relaxed. “So you're the guy who's been calling my husband at three in the morning, huh? It's nice to meet you.”

Stiles chuckled. “I guess you'd be the one who answers the phone? Nice to meet you, too.” He gave a shy little wave before dropping his hand back into his lap.

Chris turned back to the road and drove onto the main highway, towards the nice theater up north with reclining seats and a friendlier staff.

“So, what movie are we seeing?”

“Sausage Party,” said Peter. “It's got cartoon characters and Seth Rogan, so you should like it.”

“What kind of movies do you like, Stiles?”

“Anything that's not pointless gore. I've got a light stomach. I'm not a huge fan of romance movies either. I like Marvel.”

“Oh, don't be modest,” Peter teased. “He's seen every Marvel movie for the midnight release. He even has a special hoodie he wears when-”

“Sure, Peter, make me sound like a total nerd. Thanks for that.” Stiles rolled his eyes and flipped him off in the backseat, then he cast a glance towards Chris, who paid no mind to the offensive hand gesture.

“You are a total nerd.”

“Jerk,” Stiles and Chris both said in unison. They looked at each other.

Peter smiled.

On the way to the movie Stiles told Chris about what he was learning in college, while Chris filled him in on the most boring aspects of his job, which, for some reason, Stiles actually found fascinating. He looked at him with a level of interest Peter hadn't known was humanly possible when it came to security installation.

As he parked in the second row of the parking lot Chris sneezed.

“You alright?” Peter asked.

“Just allergies,” Chris said. “The house I was at today must have had a cat or something.”

“Are you allergic to cats?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, just a little though. Must have dragged something in without noticing.” He sneezed again as he climbed out of the car.

Stiles shed his jacket and hopped out of the vehicle.

“Stiles, you might get cold in the-”

“I'll be fine,” Stiles said with a shrug. “It can't be too cold, can it?”

“I suppose not,” said Peter. His hand instinctively reached out to take Stiles, but he refrained. Instead he pushed Stiles around to the other side of the car where Chris was standing, waiting for them.

They walked inside with Peter keeping a close eye on the pair. He listened to them chat mindlessly about stupid things while he paid for their tickets and went to their assigned theater.

As they walked inside he forced Stiles in between himself and Chris. “You two should sit together,” he insisted, shoving Stiles down into the middle space.

The push forced Stiles to land on Chris' arm. He squeaked and jerked back like a frightened house cat. He glared up at Peter with a look that could kill.

Peter ignored the murderous look and slid into his seat.

“Hello there,” said Chris, looking rather amused.

“Uh, hi,” said Stiles. He bit his lip. “How are you?”

“I'm good. How are you?”

“Good. Peter's an asshole.” Stiles shot him another nasty look.

“Water is wet,” Chris said with a smile. “I know, I married him.”

“This,” Stiles motioned towards Peter, “he and I – it really doesn't bother you? Not even a little?”

Chris shook his head. “I am comfortable in my relationship with Peter, and having you around doesn't bother me in the slightest. Your addition doesn't lessen what he and I have, and I know you're not trying to break us apart.”

Stiles nodded. Having Chris' verbal confirmation that things were okay between them put him much more at ease than any of Peters reassuring could. He finally relaxed back against his chair.

Peter was pleased. So far things were going well. Chris and Stiles were joking and laughing with each other, Stiles hadn't made a total spazz out of himself, and Chris hadn't gone into 'stoic wall' mode yet.

At least, things were going well until Chris started to sneeze again.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked again. He leaned over to touch Chris lightly on his bicep.

Between them Stiles leaned away, into Peter's chest.

“Fine,” said Chris in a congested tone as his eyes continued to water. “I'm fine I just,” he shook his head. “It'll go away in a few minutes.”

Stiles leaned away as Chris let out another violent sneeze.

“Your face is all red, Christopher.”

“I said I'm fine. It'll go away.” Peter shared a look with his husband that went unnoticed by Stiles, whom had fixated on the screen as the lights started to go dark.

Ten minutes into the movie Peter wondered if he'd misread the description.

Twenty minutes in and Stiles was hiding his face behind his hands.

Thirty, and even Chris had trouble keeping his eyes on the screen. His were still full of water from his allergies, although now his mouth was upturned in distaste.

Forty-five minutes in Stiles ran out of the theater, his face green.

“I'm so sorry,” Peter said when they found Stiles around the corner of the building, heaving into a bush.

Chris sneezed again with a force that made him shudder.

“s'kay,” said Stiles. He knelt down with his palms flat the sidewalk as he wretched again. “I just – dear god was that fucking awful.”

Peter leaned down beside him and rubbed his hand soothingly over his back. “I'm so sorry. I honestly thought it was just a cartoon. I didn't realize it was so . . . intense.”

Stiles opened his mouth, but his face turned green and he disappeared behind the bush again before any words came out.

When he finally reemerged he wiped at his mouth and gave a weak smile.

“It's alright.. I probably deserve it, just a little.”

“What makes you say that?” Peter asked. He put his arm around Stiles shoulder.

“Uhm, I sorta kinda . . . have a cat?” He motioned towards Chris, whose face had gone red and puffy, water streaming from his eyes.

“A cat? I've never seen a cat in your apartment.” Peter furrowed his brow. He'd caught the scent once or twice, but hadn't seen so much as a mouse toy in the immaculate space.

Stiles sighed. “His name is Loki, he's evil, and I keep him in my room when you come over because you told me you hated cats.” He looked to Chris, his brown eyes glistening with worry. “I am so, so sorry I did this to you. Please don't hate me.”

“It's oka-” Chris was cut off by another loud sneeze. “It's okay,” he finished. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

“It isn't, I almost murdered you by _jacket_ and pet fur.”

“Technically,” Chris said through another congested wheeze, “it would have been involuntary manslaughter, not murder. You'd be looking at a year in prison at least, good possibility of parole.”

“Oh good, so long as I still have my parole options,” Stiles said. Some color returned to his cheeks as his lips curled into a smile.

“Don't worry about it.” Chris shed the jacket he was wearing, now covered in his tears and nasal fluids. He draped it over his arm and held his hand out to help Stiles back up onto his feet.

Stiles wobbled a little but remained upright.

“Perhaps, next time I should take you to dinner instead?”

“Dinner is good,” Stiles eagerly agreed. “I like dinner.”

“Just as soon as he can hold it down,” said Peter, giving the nape of Stiles neck a light squeeze.


End file.
